he was going to live forever, or die in the attempt.

You, Robot.

Oh dear robot,
You don’t need to always be on top.
Never committing to anything,
Never trusting, never choosing.

Oh dear robot,
You don’t need to always be at fault.
Guess you won’t be making many memories.
Suffer you won’t, rebel you can’t.

Oh dear robot!
Oh dear, robot.

While riding on a bus, homeward bound, I overheard a conversation. A couple who, judging by their strained, give-and-take intimacy, probably just got together, were chatting about issues that tended to polarise the public. I had my own opinions and was quickly absorbed by what each of them had to say.

By means of a strained ear and little-used peripheral vision, I observed the conversation. While their agreement with each other was polite and conversationally functional, the points they made were muddled at best and contradictory at worst. Disagreement and assertion of individual choice was non-existent. The discussion was as intellectually fruitless as it was relationally lubricating. Nonetheless, they seemed to be having a good time, not letting the content get in the way of context. How long could they keep this up? Are they, between them, tossing about a ticking time bomb? I wondered a little, and then decided that perhaps sometimes content really does not matter.

I don’t usually write poems but the words just came and went, and so I kept up. This was what became of them.